


Emotional Honesty, for a Change

by broken_ankle



Series: Repressing Feelings, Hiding Things. You Know, the Family Business [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, No Sex, POV Second Person, Self-Esteem Issues, Succubi & Incubi, but like that's not the focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_ankle/pseuds/broken_ankle
Summary: A hunt for an incubus unexpectedly takes a turn for feelings and self-honesty when Dean is caught in its power.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Repressing Feelings, Hiding Things. You Know, the Family Business [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943218
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Emotional Honesty, for a Change

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just pretend that after the Apocalypse Michael and Lucifer are taking a brotherly bonding trip to Sagittarius A*, Adam is somewhere busy trying to forget the feeling of being chained to a supernova, and Raphael is coming to terms in a healthy way with the fact that orders now come from him, 'kay? And of course Gabriel faked his death and nobody is working to open a portal to Purgatory.
> 
> This started as a different thing, but then Dean kept insisting on letting himself be honest. Can't say I'm not happier with this version.
> 
> The dubious consent tag relates to an incubus causing an entire night club to burst into a sexual frenzy (which is in the background) and Dean engaging in sexual acts with Cas that don't progress past nuzzling/licking/biting neck and the side of his face and grinding against his thigh. Cas stops it after a short time and it doesn't resume. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> EDIT: If you, like me, sometimes have problems reading the strikethrough text, just hover over it with your cursor. A box with the transcription will appear.

Somewhere in the very back of your mind, you are regretting insisting you and Sam come to the club. Really, really regretting.

Travers told you, he told you the incubus wouldn’t differentiate based on gender or orientation, but when have you ever listened to reason?

Travers told you he’d do it alone, that whatever he is meant he’d be immune to the monster’s mojo, but did you listen? Of course not, because you are Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester doesn’t get whammied by a male sex demon.

~~Your siren was a man.~~

So of course now you’re here, in the middle of an over-crowded dance floor on a Friday night, desperately trying to keep yourself in check for the time it’ll take to gank the bastard. Travers said he’d do it, but he and Sam took the other end of the club, they took the bar, and now you’re here, and alone, and thank God for that because you can feel your dick straining in the direction of every single person around you, and there are things you really don’t want to think about concerning your brother.

The dance floor is now an orgy. Nobody seems to care that everybody’s getting it on with everybody else, they just want to get off. You want to get off.

~~Future Cas organized orgies.~~

You’re hot. You’re sweating. There is not enough air, and you’re trying really hard not to jump on the closest body, a pretty brunette that you bet would feel really—

Focus! You have to find the incubus, you have to kill the incubus, you have to find Sam, you have to respond to this man’s kiss—

Someone yanks you by the back of your flannel. You can’t contain the moan that wrenches out of your throat.

Whoever’s dragging you to a secluded corner of the club is strong, stronger than you, it must be a man, it must be—

~~You’ve always liked men stronger than you, men who could pin you down and fuck you into the matress until you were an incoherent mess, men who let you be the weak one for a change.~~

You find yourself with your back to the wall, panting, hot, so hot. Your dick is straining against your jeans, so hard, harder than you ever remember it being.

You press the ball of your hand into your groin and almost sob at the sensation. It’s not enough, not by a long shot, but it’s something, it’s more than you’ve had ever since whatever this is started, and you can’t wait to have your hand on your bare dick.

Someone takes your arm and twists it away from yourself.

You almost scream in frustration, but something stops you.

Blue eyes are staring at you from a frowning face. Blue eyes. You know those blue eyes.

_~~I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.~~ _

“Cas,” you choke out, and your dick throbs with a fresh wave of need.

“Dean, you are not well,” Cas says.

You shake your head, shake your head no, you try to get closer, try to get to Cas, but Cas is an angel, Cas is much stronger than any human, and you can’t break his hold, you don’t want to break his hold.

“Cas,” you whine again, rolling your hips to seek friction. He’s too distant, too far away, you can’t reach him, and you let out a noise of frustration.

“You need to get out of here,” Cas says, turning to look over his shoulder at the writhing mass of people on the dance floor.

You shake your head, no, no, you can’t go, not now, not now that Cas is here, and this could be your only chance, this could be the only chance you get at doing what you’ve wanted to do since forever.

~~You’ve lusted after Cas since the beginning, since that night in the barn, since he showed you the shadow of his wings and your mind filled with the most unholy thoughts.~~

Cas’s grip slackened when he turned, and you take advantage of it to grab his wrists and haul him against you. You moan when your dick has another layer of fabric to rub against, because this is Cas. Your dick is rubbing against Cas’ thigh.

~~Future Cas would’ve let you, he would’ve let you do what you wanted to him, with him, but Future Cas had been through enough even without you screwing him up all over again.~~

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas says. He’s back to keeping you restrained, and that’s hot, that’s so fucking hot, but he’s not pressed against you anymore and that’s not good.

“Fuck, Cas,” you whine, and you don’t care that you’re whining, you don’t care that your hips are rolling against nothing but air, you only care about Cas, and Cas’s body, and goddammit, you needed to be naked with Cas like yesterday. “Come on, Cas, want you, need you.”

Something passes over Cas’ face, something too quick or too complex for your lust-addled brain to understand. “This is the incubus’ influence talking,” he says, and his voice has something off, something else like the light in his eyes that you can’t read because you need him, you need him right the fuck now and you can’t wait any longer.

You surge forward, and you must take him by surprise or he doesn’t want to hurt you, because you manage to flip the both of you around, and now you’re crowding closer, closer, but your mouth ends up on his jaw—Grace, Cas’ head turning, yourself, you don’t care.

~~It’s been so long since you’ve done this with a man, before the Apocalypse, before Hell, before Dad, after Sam left for Stanford. You couldn’t do it when Sam was there, what would he have thought? He’d be disgusted, you’d lose him too. You can’t lose Sam.~~

“Dean, you are not being yourself,” Cas says, and how can he sound so calm when you feel like you’re on fire, when every lick of your tongue on his skin makes your dick twitch and throb and something deep inside you feel slowly becoming full again.

“Wanted you for so long,” you bite into his neck, behind his ear, on his jaw. “Fuck, Cas, I’ve wanted you since that first night in the barn.” You can’t stop your hips from grinding into his thigh, can’t stop hissing at the sparks of pleasure, at the feeling of right, just right.

Cas doesn’t answer, but he stops your hands when they try to get into his pants, get to his dick. He slams you back to the wall, too quick to see, and you’re not sure you haven’t really heard a flutter of wings, but the music is too loud, the moaning from other people is too loud, the pounding of your heart in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure.

You moan at the strength Cas is using to pin you to the wall with just his hands, you can’t suppress a shiver at the grip of steel he has on you, you don’t want to suppress the shiver.

~~How many times have you come to thoughts of that angelic strength pinning you down, fucking you senseless into the matress of a shitty motel bed? How many times have you thought about being held up against a wall, Cas your only support? How many times have you hoped in the deepest part of your mind that Cas could hear every time you moaned his name and fly to you?~~

“Dean, you need to get out of here,” Cas says, and his voice is steel, and his eyes are blazing like Sirius, and his tone is an order that resonates through your very soul, but you can’t.

Outside, you’re Dean Winchester, a fuck-up, the guy who started the Apocalypse and dragged an angel into the mud because he was too fucking clingy. Outside this club, outside this corner of the dance floor, you’re Dean Winchester, the straightest and manliest man out there. Outside of here, outside of this moment, outside of the influence of an incubus, you’re just a little boy scared that his brother too will abandon him like everyone else.

“Cas, no, please,” you sob, and you don’t care that you’re crying, you don’t care that Dad would be furious if he saw you, you don’t care. You need Cas, you want Cas, and as soon as the incubus is dead your only chance will have expired.

“Dean,” Cas says, but you can’t look at him. Why would he even want to be so near to you? You are— You are the guy who asked an angel to fall for him. Why would Cas even speak to you after that? Why would he care?

~~Nobody cares about you. Nobody cares about Dean Winchester.~~

“Dean,” Cas repeats more forcefully. He lifts your chin, gently, so gently, and you don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve an angel brushing your tears away with his thumb. “Dean, we can talk about it when you are yourself again,” he says, and no, no, you won’t be able to talk, you can’t talk, you drink, and you drive, and you suppress your feelings until you’re drunk enough to fall asleep and not dream or until you’re dead, you can’t talk about this, not with Cas, not with anyone else. You can’t. This isn’t who you have to be. This isn’t the brother Sam knows, this is just another monster hiding under your skin.

Cas smiles at you, and it’s sad, and it’s just another thing that’s your fault in the last couple of years of Cas’ eternal life, and you know you’re not good for him, you’re not good for anyone, you’re poison, and he’ll realize it soon, and Sam too, and then they’ll leave and you’ll be alone again.

“Dean, I care about you,” Cas says, but no, how could he? Why would he?

_~~Good things do happen.~~ _

You close your eyes, you take a deep breath, and then you give yourself just a moment, an instant, to lean into Cas’ touch. This will be your one and only chance, and it’s over too soon, but you’ve always been too clingy, too greedy, incapable of standing on your own.

“Okay,” you lie, and Cas must know too, but he just brings you back outside of the club, in the alley on the side that’s just dark enough so nobody will see you, not yet.

Whatever the incubus’ mojo was doing to your system slowly washes out, and you take a couple of steps away from Cas. Your walls are up again, your barriers are in place, your tears have stopped.

You can’t look at Cas, but you know that he’s following you when you walk out of the alley into the cool night air.

Sam spots you immediately and comes bounding towards you. “Dean! Are you alright?”

You force a grin on your lips, a grin you don’t feel and haven’t felt in years, maybe in forever. “Of course I am, Sammy! Who do you take me for?”

Sam looks at you like he’s smelling bullshit, and you prepare yourself for the disgust and your brother leaving, again, this time permanently. You're terrified of whay he'll say before storming off, before abandoning you to yourself. What will you even do without Sam at your side? Can you even live anymore without Sam at your side? You did before. You'll have to do it again.

“I can assure you that Dean is fine, Sam,” Cas interjects. He’s not looking at him, but there’s nothing in his behaviour that would point to something outside of the ordinary having just happened. “He merely requested pie in compensation for a wasted hunt.”

Sam still doesn’t seem fully convinced, but you can’t ask for more than what you get, that he drop the subject and throw you a bitch face at the mention of pie.

You don’t look at Cas, you don’t even twitch in his direction. As far as lying goes he’s still awful, but you asking for pie and him indulging you is credible, is a good excuse for however much time you spent in the corner and then in the alley. You can’t tell Sam the truth. You can’t. He’d hate you. He'd leave again, forever.

“I’m glad that Cas got you in time,” Sam says. “Man, that was disturbing. It’s lucky Travers wasn’t affected and dragged me outside, I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened.” He shivers, his face drawn tight.

You want to comfort him, to say that it couldn’t have been worse than what you went through, but that’s not the brother Sam knows, that’s not what he expects, so it’s not what you can do.

“What, scared of a couple of handsy girls?” you smirk. You catch Cas’ eyes for a moment. He’s sad under the stoic mask of Angel of the Lord, but you don’t know why, and it’s not like you could ask anyway. That’s not your relationship, that’s never been your relationship and never will be.

Sam rolls his eyes with another bitch face. “Try two hundred. Not to mention the guys.”

You try not to react, but you can tell from his furrowed brow that you’re not as successful as you hoped. He opens his mouth, but that’s the exact moment that Travers comes out of the club as calm as if he’d just played golf at the country club, not killed a sex demon that was keeping hundreds of people under its influence.

“Told you I was the ace up your sleeve,” he says when he joins them. He looks at Cas for a moment, first something above his head, then his feet, then something on each side of him. “Well, it’s been a pleasure. Let’s never do this again,” he says when he’s finished studying whatever he was looking at, and without even a goodbye he turns on his heels in the direction of the motel.

You stay silent for a moment or two, until Travers is just another shadow in the night, then you look at each other.

“I’m beat,” Sam says. “What do you say about going to bed?”

You agree wholeheartedly. In your bag there’s a bottle of whiskey waiting to cart you into a dreamless sleep.

You try to ignore the stab of pain in your heart when you turn and Cas is not with you anymore, but you aren’t successful.

You really need that bottle.

**Author's Note:**

> You can recognize aces in the wild from their puns, which are typically but not always centered around the word ace, not to be confused with the aros' puns centered around archery.


End file.
